


holding on a little tighter

by Ookami_Chi



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Clint Barton is Best Dad, Daredevil Season 3 Divergence, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family Dynamics, Gen, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:32:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ookami_Chi/pseuds/Ookami_Chi
Summary: Father Lantom places Matt Murdock into the Avenger's care.____“Is that what he is to you, Tony? Another project? Like Peter?”Tony’s jaw clenched. “It isn’t like that, Rogers.”“It’s hard to see how it isn’t.”“I thought we were done with this.”“We are.”The door closed behind the sound of Steve’s retreating footsteps. Tony released a shaky breath, his chest tight as his hands curled inward to his palms. Shit.“You’re broken too, aren’t you,” he said, huffing as he glanced over at the unresponsive devil. “The tower is a gathering place for broken things.”





	holding on a little tighter

**Author's Note:**

> After watching season 3 of Daredevil (which is AMAZING, by the way) I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Matt had ended up with the Avengers instead of with Maggie in the church. 
> 
> For general timeline purposes, this fiction takes place in a canon divergence of Civil War in which the avengers were able to find a compromise for the Sokovia Accords. For Daredevil Season 3, we diverge after Matt is found and brought to Father Lantom.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy and I will try to have another chapter up soon.

Behind the mask of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is a man. Days worth of stubble cast a shadow across his jaw of the vigilante whose eyes flutter under closed eyelids as his chest rises and falls in a fitful sleep.

He stuffed his fists into his pockets as he turned toward the father, motioning toward the Devil behind them. “That’s him.” There was no question. Daredevil had disappeared after the fall of Midland Circle only to reappear here, in a catholic orphanage. Tony resisted the urge to snort at the irony.

The father nodded. “He can’t stay here.”

“So you called me.” 

“So we called you.” 

Tony rubbed a hand over his face, pinching his nose between his finger and thumb. Tensions were already high in the tower without adding the Devil into the mix. He grimaced as he glanced back at the man in question, the pain etched into laugh lines. The furrowed brow. The father follows his gaze with a sigh, his hand resting over the devil’s, thumb rubbing circles into bloodied knuckles.

“He’ll be safe with us.” Tony’s own voice was distant as he spoke. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the broken man on the bed. The man had taken down Wilson Fisk now laid beaten, bloody, bruised.

He was small.

“What’s his name?” 

The father stiffened. “Matthew Murdock.”

The Devil was blind.

  
  


* * * 

Hands clamped down on his shoulders as he struggled to get up, ears ringing. Their voices muffled in his right ear, he can barely hear them telling him to lay back down. Matt pushed harder despite the stabbing pain, the feeling of something wet against his side.

“Dammit Matthew, your reopening your stitches.”

His head whipped in the direction of the voice, mouth gawking before closing like a fish out of water. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t…

Elektra.

The hands returned when he slammed to the floor, his chest screaming but he couldn’t it. The broken ribs he must have gained after the explosion, creaking like an old ship. Focus. He felt his eyes slam shut as his pressed his palms against his forehead. “Where?” He couldn’t see. 

“Matt…Tower...Clint Barton….safe here.”

“I can’t hear you,” Matt hissed through the growing pain, clutching his side as he curled into it. Mystery hands grabbed his elbow before he could slap it away.

“Fuck,” Barton said. 

Matt could just barely hear him through his left ear. He felt himself cough up blood instead.

“Fuck...Banner!”

For a second time, Matt felt himself fall into darkness.

 

***

 

“Was this really a good idea?” 

“He didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

“You don’t know that, Tony. You--” 

“I know enough, Steve.”

Tony leaned against the wall as Steve Rogers frowned, watching the devil in the middle of the room. It had been only a day since Clint had found him, awake and struggling to get to his feet. No amount of sickenly soft, cuddly words from Barton could calm the devil down. In the end, Matthew passed out cold on the floor. Tony was no doctor, but he suspected blood loss was to blame.

“He’s going to kill himself, Tony. You can’t save a man who doesn’t want to save himself.” 

Tony snorted, eyes trailing back to the blood soaked bandages wrapped around the devil’s torso. “Beat yourself up good, didn’t you, Lucy?” He muttered to the unconscious man. He had heard stories of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, or Daredevil as the papers liked to call him now. The man was blind, but he managed to take down the likes of Wilson Fisk. Matthew Murdock was an enigma. 

“Is that what he is to you, Tony? Another project? Like Peter?” 

Tony’s jaw clenched. “It isn’t like that, Rogers.”

“It’s hard to see how it isn’t.”

“I thought we were done with this.” 

“We are.”

The door closed behind the sound of Steve’s retreating footsteps. Tony released a shaky breath, his chest tight as his hands curled inward to his palms. Shit.

“You’re broken too, aren’t you,” he said, huffing as he glanced over at the unresponsive devil. “The tower is a gathering place for broken things.”

 

***

The devil is awake the second time Clint was placed on babysitting duty. Bruises still littered his arms where the man had thrashed against him, the floor still stained with Matt Murdock’s blood.

He was staring at the ceiling--or rather, he would if he could see.

“You gave everyone a scare,” Clint said, announcing his presence, taking care to approach the man on his left side. 

“What are you doing here?” The devil answered. His voice was a croak, dry with disuse. 

“Keeping you company,” Clint shrugged, pulling up a chair beside the bed, grabbing the water bottle by the nightstand and offering it to the man. “Thirsty? Water bottle to your left. I’m holding it out to you.” 

The devil grimaced, reaching out past the bottle, fingers grasping air. Clint cheeks burned as he moved to press the bottle into the man’s fingers, guiding it to his lips. Fuck. He didn’t think it was this bad…

Matt gasped as he pulled the bottle away from his lips and Clint dived forward to catch it before it spilled over his bandages. He only caught the end of the grunted thank-you from the vigilante.

“You’re welcome,” Clint said, rubbing the back of his neck before he replaced the cap and set the bottle down. Silence settled between them as an awkward companion. 

“This isn’t the church.”

“It isn’t.” 

“Why?” 

Clint bit the inside of his cheek. “Short answer: Tony Stark,” he said after a harsh chuckle. “Long answer: I don’t have a fucking clue, but your here and alive and I guess that’s what matters, right?”   
Matt snorted, turning on to his side, his back to the archer. 

Clint sighed. “Right. You’re probably wishing you were dead right now. I get it. You hit rock bottom.” His eyes were fixed on the devil’s back, the rise and fall of his bandaged side blotted by a blooming circle of crimson red. Banner would need to change the bandages again. “You have the right to be angry, but as long as you’re at the tower, you are safe, Matt, and we aren’t going to let you slink off into the shadows and die. When you’re ready talk, I’ll be here.”

 

***

His legs didn’t obey him at first. He stumbled over his own feet, fell onto hands and knees and crawled back up, clinging to the wall when he finally made it to the other side of the room. Matt’s knees buckled, his chest heaving as he leaned against it, nausea building in the back of his throat.

He couldn’t think of a goal in any of this, or an excuse to pushing his body past its limits. He could sting of iron barely through the ash, and he grimaced as he pressed his forehead into the wall and steadied himself on his feet.

He navigated the first steps out of the room by touch alone. 

“Mr. Murdock, I advise that you return to bed,” a voice sounded from above. Matt craned his head to listen from his good ear but he was unable to pinpoint the source. 

He couldn’t hear his city.

The voice still spoke overhead, calling his name but it didn't matter. He followed the wall toward the other voices, father away. Deeper down, Matt wondered what the point of all of it was.

The voices fall silent when he makes it to the room.

“Matt,” the voice sounds from his left side, his good side. There was the hand on his shoulder again, but rather than push him back down it helps him up. “Welcome to the Avengers family.”


End file.
